


Casting On

by Ariel_Tempest



Category: Downton Abbey
Genre: Fluff, Gift Fic, Knitting, Missing Scene, Other, Plotting, SO MUCH FLUFF, Scarves, Secrets, Soldier's Heart, tooth rot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-14
Updated: 2020-04-14
Packaged: 2021-03-01 18:13:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,496
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23651380
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ariel_Tempest/pseuds/Ariel_Tempest
Summary: A couple of missing scenes, featuring Bates and Anna scheming.Beware cavities.
Relationships: Anna Bates/John Bates
Comments: 8
Kudos: 69





	Casting On

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Alex51324](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alex51324/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Soldier's Heart](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21947791) by [Alex51324](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alex51324/pseuds/Alex51324). 



> Just a short little thing that ambushed me one morning before I was awake. 
> 
> A couple of missing scenes from [Soldier's Heart ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21947791/chapters/52379047) by [Alex51324](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alex51324/pseuds/Alex51324). Set during chapter 1.
> 
> Casting on is the term for starting a project in knitting. There are multiple ways to do this - cabling on, knitting on, slingshot, etc. - but this is what they are called collectively.

“That man is completely impossible,” Anna griped, sitting herself at the boot room table with far less grace than normal and setting Lady Mary’s walking boots down with a bit more force than necessary.

Mr. Bates, seated at the other end of the table, looked up from polishing Lord Grantham’s oxfords with a knowing smile. “Thomas?”

“Of course Thomas.” Picking up the polishing cloth, Anna proceeded to take her annoyance out on a scuffed toe. “Who else would it be?”

“What’s he done this time?”

Anna sighed, pausing in her polishing. “With all of the girls knitting things for their men at the front, he got it into his head to have me teach him to knit so he can make a scarf for Mr. Fitzroy.” 

A look of surprise registered on her companion’s face. Apparently he hadn’t expected that any more than she had. “Really?”

“Really,” she confirmed with a rueful smile. “It’s actually quite sweet of him, I think.” That was the problem, though, wasn’t it? Thomas couldn’t just be sweet. His unfathomable little mind had to take a perfectly sweet, innocent idea and turn it into some sort of conspiracy that was going to get them both sacked. “The problem is that he won’t agree to just have lessons in the servant’s hall like a sensible person. He wants them done on the sly, and don’t ask where!”

To her absolute shock, Mr. Bates chuckled. “That sounds about right.” Her surprise must have registered on her face, because he patiently explained, “A lot of young men his age would balk at the idea of knitting in front of God and everyone. Knitting is seen as women’s work, so he’d be opening himself up to comment.”

“Everyone knows Mr. Fitzroy isn’t simply his friend, or his brother for that matter,” Anna protested, half heartedly. She followed it with a sigh. “He does hate to look vulnerable though, doesn’t he?”

“He does. And with O’Brien in the room, you know he has reason.”

Anna grimaced at that. If she thought about it, she wouldn’t really want to be taught to knit in front of the Lady’s Maid either, and she was a woman. “It’s a pity, though. It really is a sweet idea. And Mr. Fitzroy’s nice, he deserves something thoughtful for Christmas.”

“Perhaps if you told Thomas that there are men in the world who knit?” 

The suggestion earned him a shake of the head. “Already tried that. He told me he wasn’t a Scottish shepherd.”

“What about sailors?” he soldiered on. “I’ve heard of plenty of them who knit as a way to pass the time.” He paused, then added, “Then again, maybe not. Given the Navy’s reputation, O’Brien would probably make a meal of that one.”

“Pity soldiers aren’t known for knitting. That would probably have a fair amount of impact right now.”

Mr. Bates considered that. “Actually, quite a few of the men did learn to knit, in the hospitals. It was something to do and if you had a hand injury, it could help you regain some of your mobility. And it helped pass the time, I suppose.”

That caught Anna’s interest. “Really? Did you learn at all?” An idea started to form at the edges of her mind and she found herself half holding her breath, waiting for his answer.

“No.” With another of those slight smiles, Mr. Bates shook his head. “I thought about it, but to be honest I didn’t see the point. Instead I lay in my bed and brooded.” He gave a self depreciating chuckle and switched his attention to the other shoe. “It would have been a better use of my time if I had.”

Anna grinned, the idea growing from a thought to a full formed plan. “Would you mind learning now?”

Mr. Bates paused, eying her, then set down the shoe, a questioning grin tugging at his mouth. “What are you scheming at?”

“Nothing much,” Anna replied, her grin growing exponentially. “Only a way to get Mr. Fitzroy a Christmas present from his sweetheart.”

* * *

“Where are we going?” Anna asked. The sound of singing followed them through the green baize door, the familiar strains of Silent Night echoing off of the stone walls and open gallery, cutting off as the door fell shut.

“The boot room,” Mr. Bates answered, easily enough, but with a soft smile teasing at the edges of his mouth. 

Anna was skeptical, to say the least. “The boot room? We’re going to the boot room in the middle of Christmas?” 

It was not terribly surprising, all told, when the only answer was the grin broadening and a quietly smug, “Yes.”

While Anna couldn’t help but smile at her companion’s antics, she threw a paranoid glance over one shoulder. “If O’Brien catches us, she’ll make a fuss.”

“She won’t catch us,” Mr. Bates promised, although he kept his voice down. “And if she does, we aren’t doing anything wrong.” 

“What are we doing?” When there was no reply except another of those smirks, Anna gave an exasperated huff. “I mean officially? If O’Brien catches us?”

“I wanted a spot of tea,” came the easy answer. “You decided that sounded like a good idea and decided to come with me. On the way to the kitchen, I remembered something I needed to do in the boot room.”

“You realize that in order to make that stick we have to actually stop for a cup of tea.” As soon as the words were out of her mouth, she was honestly a bit concerned she’d even thought of it. She’d spent too much time around Thomas. He was starting to rub off on her.

Having reached the bottom of the stairs, Mr. Bates stopped and thought about it. Then he shrugged. “Nothing wrong with a cup of tea on Christmas.”

That apparently settled that. They were going to the boot room, for some reason, and then they were going to the kitchen for tea. Anna rolled her eyes, but she didn’t argue. A cup of tea did sound rather nice, now that she thought of it. She followed the steady tap of Mr. Bates’s walking stick through the empty and echoing halls beneath Downton Abbey, making their unhurried way to the boot room. Anna entered first, flicking on the lights and looking around. Unsurprisingly, it looked much as it had when she’d been in there earlier in the day. She turned in the middle of the room and looked at him, hands folded primly in front of her. “Alright, we’re in the boot room. Now what?”

He didn’t answer her. Instead he made his way to one of the cupboards, opened it, and pulled out a package wrapped in paper. Smiling, he held it out to her. “Merry Christmas.”

Whatever she’d expected, she hadn’t expected that. She took the gift and, for a moment, just stared at the slightly amorphous lump in her hands. It was wrapped neatly, she’d give him that, but whatever was inside was squishy, so the package lacked something in structure. She found herself smiling despite herself. “You didn’t have to,” she finally managed to protest.

“I know.”

Her smile growing, she carefully worked the string loose and pulled back the paper. Hopefully no one had followed them downstairs, O’Brien or anyone else, because when she saw the contents of the package, she couldn’t help but laugh. She was sure it could be heard all the way in the kitchen. “Well, at least I’ll be warm!” she teased, pulling out the khaki coloured scarf and wrapping it around her neck. It was far from fancy, having been done in a straight forward garter stitch, and she could see where he’d added stitches for a few rows, then missed one someplace else. But the fact he’d given it to her would have made her warm even if the scarf it’s self had been full of holes. She grinned at him. “You could have kept it, you know. It’s yours after all.”

“Yes,” he admitted. “But that would hardly be fair to my lovely teacher, now would it?”

Anna was certain she was blushing. “Stop it, you,” she admonished, although there was no heat to it. “People will think we really are having an affair.”

He sighed at that. “I wish we could.”

She wanted to chastise him for actually saying it, but she couldn’t. “So do I.” Her smile turned sad as she pressed her cheek against the scarf. It was a sweet gift, she wouldn’t deny it. Couldn’t have denied it if she wanted to. It was entirely too sweet to be overshadowed by the long arm of Vera Bates. Forcing her thoughts in a brighter direction, she gave him an impish look. “I have to wonder, though. Does this mean if I teach you to make a jumper, you’ll knit me one of those as well?”

Mr. Bates coughed, wincing slightly. “We’ll have to see about that.”

**Author's Note:**

> As a historical note, I have reasons to believe that oxfords were not actually called that when they were first introduced, but I don't know what they were called. So oxfords will have to do. Besides, that way more people know what I'm talking about anyway.


End file.
